"That need not trouble you; I pledge myself to open the trap without making the slightest noise."
"That is better; but come, time presses."
"That is true. Come."
The two men then proceeded to the flight of stairs. On reaching the top, the White Scalper thrust his head against the ceiling, and after several attempts a slab slowly rose, turned over, and fell noiselessly on its side, leaving a passage large enough for two men to pass together. White Scalper passed through this opening. With one bound the Jaguar stood by his side, pistol in hand, ready to blow out his brains at the first suspicious movement. But he soon perceived that the old man had no intention of betraying him, and, ashamed at the suspicion he had evidenced, he hid his weapon.
As the Scalper had stated, they found themselves in an abandoned corral—a sort of vast stall, open to the sky, in which the Americans keep their horses; but this one was quite empty. The Jaguar went up to a door behind which he heard the sound of footsteps and the clanking of arms, and assured himself that nothing was more easy than to burst this door open.
"Good," he muttered; "you have kept your word; thank you."
The Scalper did not seem to hear him; his eyes were fixed on the door with a strange intensity, and his limbs trembled, as if he had been attacked by ague. Without attempting to discover the cause of his old comrade's extraordinary emotion, the Jaguar ran to the opening, over which he bent down. John Davis was standing on the top step.
"Well?" he asked.
"All goes well. Come up, but do not make any noise."
The four hundred Texans then rose one after the other from the vault. Each, as he came out of the trap, silently fell in. When all had entered the corral, the Jaguar returned the slab to its place. Then, returning to his comrades, said in a low but perfectly distinct voice: